


Scerek Ficlets

by imitation_red



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bondage, D/s, D/s undertones, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:44:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitation_red/pseuds/imitation_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what it says on the tin, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Written for this gif: gentlederek. tumblr. com /post/ 55928809028 (non explicit, just shows hands)

The first time Scott jokes about tying Derek’s hands to the headboard, Derek flushes all the way down to his chest, heart-rate picking up as he stoops to pick up his pants rather than look at Scott.

Good thing Scott has known Derek long enough to read the way he swallows hard, biting his lower lip.

"Derek?" Scott prompts. "Is that something you want to try?"

Derek picks at a loose thread on his jeans, avoiding Scott’s eyes. “Maybe,” he says evasively, but when he glances up his pupils are blown wide.

Scott smiles.

They try it a few days later, but Scott has barely finished tightening the knot before Derek is tensing and blurting “Stop, stop-“

Scott severs the rope immediately with his claws, not bothering to take the time to untie it. “Shh, I’ve got you, they’re off, hey, I’ve got you, Derek.”

Derek curls in Scott’s arms, bringing his hands to Scott’s chest and clinging. Scott murmurs soothing nonsense and strokes through Derek’s hair and down his back until he’s calm enough to speak.

"I - I don’t know what happened. I panicked," Derek says finally, face pressed against Scott’s neck.

Scott’s heart aches as he thinks of the number of times Derek has been tied or cuffed or restrained or paralyzed against his will. “It’s okay, it’s fine, Derek.” He drops a kiss on Derek’s temple. “We don’t have to do this. Or we can try again another time. It’s up to you.”

Derek breathes out slowly. “I wanted to do it. I want to do it. Let’s try again.”

Scott hums, hesitant. He knows that Derek sometimes thinks of his own boundaries as weaknesses rather than limits that need to be respected. “Why don’t we try a different way?” he suggests.

He takes one of Derek’s hands, interlacing their fingers, and pins it above Derek’s head. He does the same with Derek’s other hand, slowly, so Derek has time to ask him to stop if he wants. Derek tilts his head back to look at their hands, then back at Scott.

"You can’t prep me with both hands pinning mine down," he points out, deadpan, but the corners of his mouth are pulling up, and he’s pliant and trusting under Scott’s grip.

"Smartass," Scott mutters affectionately, and kisses the tip of Derek’s nose before reaching for the lube.

He opens Derek up slowly, attentive to each sigh and shiver, the way Derek bites his lip if Scott goes too fast or cants his hips demandingly if Scott goes too slow. When Derek’s breath starts to rush out in harsh bursts he pulls his fingers out, savoring Derek’s bitten-off whine.

He slicks himself quickly and presses the head of his cock against Derek, enjoying the way his lover swallows audibly in anticipation, back arching as he watches Scott with heavy-lidded eyes. Scott wipes his fingers on a handtowel before taking Derek’s hands and pinning them above his head again.

"Good?" he asks.

Derek meets him in a kiss in answer.

Scott sinks into Derek inch by inch, watching Derek’s eyelashes flutter, mouth opening soundlessly. Derek’s arms tremble and jerk but Scott keeps them pinned easily, pressing down just firmly enough to make it clear that Scott is the stronger one.

"Fuck, Scott,” Derek pants, eyes flickering blue before he tilts his head back, exposing the long stretch of his throat.

Scott takes the offering and delicately drags his open mouth down Derek’s jugular, feeling the vibrations of suppressed whines as Derek trembles and arches underneath him. He doesn’t move, just stays buried deep inside Derek, lavishing Derek’s throat with tongue and teeth.

"Scott, fuck, please," Derek hisses, hips twitching in an aborted motion.

"Please, what?" Scott says, sinking his teeth into a tendon. 

Derek moans brokenly. “Fuck me.”

Scott drops a gentle kiss on the abused patch of skin. “Good boy,” he rasps, just a hint of alpha in his tone, and the soft sound Derek makes is perfect.

He fucks into Derek, not particularly rough or hard, but slow and deep and inexorable. Derek clutches at his hands and Scott squeezes back reassuringly, kissing him sweet and gentle to counterbalance the unrelenting thrust of his hips.

"Scott, please, I need -" Derek twists and a shudder wracks his body. "Please, let me -"

"You wanna come?" Scott asks, pressing his belly down so it traps Derek’s dick between their bodies. Derek groans, jerking. "Then come for me, c’mon, gonna fuck you through it, until it’s too much and you’re begging me to stop -"

Derek twists and comes with a shout, and Scott fucks him through it until he’s limp and shuddery with aftershocks, until Scott follows him over the edge.

Scott rests his head on Derek’s shoulder and tries to catch his breath, before peeking up at Derek. “Good?”

"Hmm. Yes," Derek slurs his words a little, looking at Scott through heavy lids, languid and satisfied. "I liked it."

"Good. I did too." Scott presses a kiss to Derek’s forehead and rolls off to grab the towel and clean them off.

Derek’s halfway to sleep when he murmurs, “Next time, we can use the rope.”


	2. sharing a bed for the first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt from khaitheshippingqueen on tumblr ~3

The first time they fuck, it’s against the wall of Derek’s apartment, with Scott’s hand fisted in Derek’s hair as they kiss messy and full of teeth, each trying to take control until Scott gets a hand down Derek’s pants and jacks him off until he groans and bares his throat.

The second time they fuck, it’s on the forest ground after a close shave with rogue hunters, both of them frantic and desperate, to the sound of Scott’s whispered “I thought they’d shot you” and “Don’t ever do something that reckless again” as Derek pants and refuses to promise because he’ll always throw himself between Scott and danger. Always.

The third is in Deaton’s operating room, Derek sucking Scott off quick and sloppy; the forth is in the backseat of Derek’s car; and by the fifth (on the floor in the hallway just outside of Scott’s room), Scott points out, loose-limbed and languid, “We should probably do this is an actual bed sometime.”

“If we make it to a bed sometime,” Derek mutters darkly, massaging his back from where the hardwood pressed against his spine painfully. 

Scott grins and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Well, we could try right now.”

Derek plants a hand over Scott’s face. “Don’t do that. It’s not sexy. You look ridiculous,” he grumbles.

Scott laughs and grabs Derek’s hand and jumps to his feet, tugging him towards the bedroom.

They don’t make it. It’s still worth it, for the perfect sounds Scott makes when Derek bends him over his own desk and fingers him open oh-so-slowly, until he comes apart under Derek’s hands.

After the sixth (shower sex in the locker rooms after lacrosse practice) and seventh (on Scott’s sofa – so close yet so far) times, shit hits the fan when the rogue hunters come back, twice as ruthless and vengeful.

The Argents take care of it, but not in time to prevent Derek from getting hurt.

“He should be fine, but I strongly recommend encouraging him to take it easy for a few days,” Deaton says as he finishes patching up Derek’s side. “He’s not an alpha anymore. He’ll need time to heal.”

“Thanks, doc,” Scott murmurs, stroking gently through Derek’s hair. His eyelashes flutter and he blinks up at Scott slowly, still out-of-it from the wolfsbane and the drugs. “I’ll make sure he does.”

He drives Derek to his apartment, Derek slumped against the window as he drifts in and out of consciousness. Scott watches him from the corner of his eye and tries not to think about how many close calls they’ve had.

At the apartment, he guides Derek to the bed and kneels to take off his shoes; and since he’s already their peels off his socks as well. It’s – strangely intimate, considering that he’s had Derek’s dick in his hand (and in other places too). But it strikes him as somehow more personal, now, staring at the delicate bones of Derek’s feet, knowing that this man who fights and struggles and does his best to keep people at an arm’s length away is vulnerable and dependent on him.

“I’m um – do you mind if I help?” Scott asks, feeling silly because he’s stripped Derek naked before. But it’s different, somehow. 

Derek just nods, hands dropping away from where they were struggling with his belt. Scott undresses him carefully, and the strange feeling doesn’t leave, intensifies at having Derek docile and compliant underneath his hands. But it’s not – bad, either, and there’s a softness to it, to having Derek trust him so openly.

He pulls down the blankets of Derek’s bed and tucks them around him. Derek huffs a little at that and tries to roll his eyes, but the way he yawns halfway through kind of ruins the effect.

Scott putters around the loft for a few minutes, putting Derek’s clothes in the hamper, closing and locking the windows so it won’t get too chilly, filling a glass of water and putting it by the bed, even checking Derek’s fridge to make sure he’ll have something to eat when he wakes.

Derek watches him under half-lidded eyes and says nothing.

“Right.” Scott rubs the back of his neck and checks again to make sure Derek’s phone is charging and within easy reach. “If you need anything just call, okay? Doesn’t matter what time it is. I’ll come over.”

He waits. Derek hums out an acknowledgement and still says nothing.

“Okay. Good.” Scott nods awkwardly. His gut is screaming at him to stay, not to abandon Derek to this cold and sparsely furnished den, alone and without Scott to protect him.

But he doesn’t want to intrude, has never been so painfully aware of his status as alpha and the power imbalance between them. Knows too well that people have violated Derek’s trust before.

So he presses a light kiss to Derek’s temple and turns to leave. 

“Stay.”

The word is soft and cracked but not too quiet for werewolf ears. Scott whips around. “Sorry?”

Derek clears his throat. “Stay.”

Scott takes one step closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Derek says, voice low and raspy. “If you want. Please.”

It’s the please that gets to him, the please that has him taking of his jeans and shoes without another word, the please that has his heart aching at the idea that Derek thought he wouldn’t.

He slides underneath the blankets, facing Derek, and hesitates. “I could – I could just sleep on the sofa, actually, I don’t mind -”

“No,” Derek says. “You’re not sleeping on the sofa.”

“It’s fine, I don’t care, I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“Scott,” Derek says again, sounding more clear-headed now in his annoyance, “Shut up and hold me.”

Scott shuts up. He lets Derek arrange them, so that Scott is spooned against Derek’s back with Scott’s arm around his waist, their fingers laced together. When he’s positioned Scott to his liking he heaves a sigh and relaxes, falling asleep almost immediately.

Scott barely breathes, half-afraid that Derek will wake up if he so much as twitches. He marvels at how peaceful Derek looks, eyelashes resting against his cheek, frown lines smoothed out. Derek is warm and solid against his chest and the sudden surge of tender protectiveness he feels takes him off-guard, makes him curl closer around Derek.

He falls asleep to steady beat of Derek’s heart in his ears.


	3. in need of an alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dub-con trigger warning. Specifically, for lack of communication in a relationship with a power imbalance (Scott is Derek’s alpha), boys being emotionally constipated, and boys not knowing how to use their words.

Month three of Scott and Derek’s – thing – rolls around, and Scott still has no idea what they’re doing.

Mostly, they fuck. Scott will call a pack meeting, and Derek will glare at him silently from a corner the entire time, contributing nothing even when Scott asks for his opinion. He’ll stay after everyone has left, surly and defiant even as he strips them both down and pushes Scott to the couch and lowers himself onto Scott’s dick.

Or they’ll be in the middle of a “situation” (as Deaton calls them) with some supernatural big bad roaming Beacon Hills yet again, and Derek will defy Scott’s orders and run headfirst in to danger, until Scott roars at him with the full force of his alpha powers behind him. And Derek will hit his knees in front of Scott and fumble desperately at Scott’s belt until he’s swallowing him down, Scott clutching at Derek’s shoulders and doing his best not to choke him.

Or Derek will show up in the middle of the night, teeth bared and eyes feral, and bite and scratch and snarl at Scott until he pushes him down rough enough to leave bruises. Until Scott uses one hand to keep Derek’s head pinned to the bed and another to prep him quickly. And Derek will leave with bite marks and broken skin but looking – well, not at peace, but something close to it.

Stiles joked once that Scott’s fucking Derek into obedience. The idea had made Scott stop dead, nausea and horror churning in his gut. He doesn’t think that’s what this is. But he doesn’t know for sure, either.

So he tells himself that it’s the last time, that he’s not going to do this again without talking to Derek and trying to figure out what’s going on in his head. But every time he tries to coax Derek into communicating, he shuts down entirely and leaves, stiff and tense and far too brittle. And when Scott sees him next his eyes will be empty.

Scott can handle an angry Derek. He can handle Derek being aggressive, and reckless, and being a general pain in the ass.

But he can’t bear it when his eyes look dead.

So Scott learns not to question. He does his best to read what Derek wants from the angle of his body or the way his jaw tightens or brow creases. He keeps tabs on Derek’s scent and when it turns sour with frustration or mellow with satisfaction. Derek won’t let Scott hold him or cuddle him afterwards, but sometimes Scott can steal a kiss or a quick hug and Derek will relax, just slightly, into the touch.

Month three of Scott and Derek’s – thing – rolls around, and suddenly everything changes.

They’re at Derek’s apartment. Scott’s gently thrusting into Derek, refusing to go hard even when Derek growls commands at him. They didn’t prep enough because someone was in a rush and Scott doesn’t care if Derek will heal faster than a human, he’s not hurting him.

“Scott,” Derek snarls, frustration in every line of his body. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“I’m pretty sure I mean it,” Scott says, slowly rolling his hips forward so that he hits Derek’s prostate dead-on, punching the air out of Derek’s lungs.

“You – know – what I’m talking about,” Derek snaps, nails sinking into Scott’s back and ass as if he thinks he can force Scott into thrusting harder.

On impulse, Scott catches Derek’s wrists and pins them above his head. He sinks his other hand in Derek’s hair, yanking the beta’s head back and exposing the long column of his throat. Derek exhales harshly, the end of a moan catching in his throat, and goes completely limp in Scott’s hold.

A little alarmed, Scott scents Derek quickly, but he smells of arousal and want without any hint of fear or stress. Scott keeps his hand fisted in Derek’s hair and brushes his lips along his neck, and Derek arches into it as he comes suddenly. The feeling of Derek’s muscles tightening around him sends Scott over the edge as well.

Panting, he rests his head on Derek’s chest, careful not to collapse completely. After a moment he tries to pull out but Derek lets out a sub-vocal whimper, crossing his legs so that Scott can’t escape. Surprised, Scott stays where he is, and drops gentle kisses on Derek’s collarbone, his jawline, the hollow of his throat.

Derek hums quietly, eyes closed. It’s the most relaxed he’s ever seen the other man. The lines between his brows are gone, tension completely drained from his body. When Scott releases Derek’s hair to stroke through it in apology for pulling so harshly, Derek keeps his head tilted back, throat bared. 

Scott stays in place until the drying of sweat and other bodily fluids gets too uncomfortable, and slips away to clean up. He comes back with a damp towel. Derek hasn’t moved, and Scott cleans him up with gentle swipes, pleased when Derek doesn’t bat him away like he usually does. 

He tucks the blankets around Derek, stands, and hesitates. Usually, his is when he leaves. Early on he’d tried to stay but Derek had treated him to pointed glares and not-so-subtle hints to leave. Not wanting to cross any boundaries Scott had taken to leaving immediately.

But Derek looks unusually vulnerable at this moment, eyes closed and head turned to track the sound of Scott’s footsteps, and Scott finds he can’t bring himself to go.

Instinct had gotten him this far. So Scott follows his gut and slips under the blankets, pulling Derek to his chest. Derek turns and curls into the embrace, tucking his head in the space between Scott’s shoulder and head.

He gives Derek several long minutes of silence, rubbing one hand up and down his back soothingly. “Can you tell me what that was about?”

Derek exhales shakily, pressing his forehead against Scott. For a moment Scott fears he’s pushed too much, but then Derek says, in a rush, “I want to be good for you.”

“You are good for me,” Scott murmurs, one hand still carding through Derek’s hair. “You’re always good for me.”

“No, I’m not,” Derek whispers. “I fight you. I don’t listen. I never do anything right.”

“Derek.” Scott swallows down a growing sense of panic. “You haven’t been doing this because – because you felt like you needed to make up for anything?”

“No!” Derek growls. “It’s not like that. I wanted to. I – I needed to.”

“Okay,” Scott says. “Is this a – a wolf thing?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I think it’s a – me thing,” Derek says, voice muffled from the way he’s pressing against Scott, as if trying to sink into his skin and disappear. It’s sweet and a little heartbreaking, so Scott holds him tighter, tucking Derek’s head under his chin.

He mulls over what he knows about Derek. The barely-concealed relief on his face when Scott takes charge as his alpha. The way he struggles with trust and relinquishing control, but at the same time so desperately seems to want to give in. How he holds everyone at a distance, with the wariness of someone who has been used and betrayed one too many times. His growing trust for Scott, how he looks almost calm when Scott has a hand on his neck, how he doesn’t fight when Scott pins him down or holds his wrists, even in the loosest grip. 

“In the morning, we’re going to talk about this, alright?” he tells Derek. “And we’re going to figure out what you need, using words, and I promise I won’t – judge you, or ever use it against you. Ever. Okay?”

“’Kay,” Derek says after a brief pause.

“And I’m taking you to the movies,” Scott adds.

Derek huffs, pulling away to look at Scott with one incredulous eye. “What.”

“I’m taking you to the movies,” he repeats firmly, half-smiling. “As in for a real date.”

Derek goes back to burying his face in Scott’s chest. “No romcoms. Or sad ones,” he says at last, and Scott grins at the wall and does his best not to punch the air in elation.


End file.
